Sex, Drugs, and Oblivian
10/21
This is wrong Lucifer. I don't know how to fix it.
Her words echoed through his head. There was no escaping them. They were inside him. His body ached and his head hurt. He needed more lethe, but thinking about Lania's Den made his stomach threaten to rebel. He couldn't remember what happened, but he hurt and his wings shivered in his psyche. Maze's request… Cold. Dark. Gold.
He woke on the floor. Shivering. Curled in on himself with his arms wrapped tight around his chest. Light from the ash cloud filtered through the crack in the roof and the ill-fitting door flap. He was in the dome. He was in the dome. He grabbed a candle and lit it, though his hands shook so much that he dropped the candle again and again.
This is wrong Lucifer. I don't know how to fix it.
The headache spiked with the light and he covered his eyes. The voice taunted him relentlessly. Why did he say those things to Maze? He accused her of keeping him prisoner and being his handler. He knew she hated that. Ash. The ash inside bothered her. If he cleaned and fixed the problems. Bought the dead flesh that she liked, then he could make it up to her.
He cleaned up the dome. He even fixed the door flap so ash wouldn't blow in so badly. The dome looked as it should now. As she expected it to.
It's not the dome she thinks is broken.
When he opened the coin jar he'd last been filling, only a handful remained. Had he spent it all on lethe? How? His goal was to help Maze. Fix his mistake, and he took it without thinking. The rest? Had he spent it, too? The other jars he'd hidden in the back corner. He dug them out, tossing baskets to the floor and shoving jars across the shelf. One. Two. Three. Still full. He slid down the wall shaking. The room looked worse than it had before he cleaned. He failed at everything. Ruined everything he touched.
The market supplies still had to be bought. He took the remaining coin from the jar he'd wasted and braved the brightness to go to the market. The noise and light amplified every bad sensation in his body. By the time he staggered back to the dome, the need for lethe to ease the physical pain and quiet the voices was overwhelming, but he needed to wait for Maze. Needed to show her that he didn't believe those things he'd said.
She didn't return before windrise.
Why would she?
You're wrong, Lucifer. I don't want to fix it.
Was that what she said? It was what she meant, wasn't it? He shivered and pressed his hands over his ears, but these voices weren't external. There was no blocking them out. The only thing that stopped them was the lethe. He needed it.
At least you've found one thing you're good at.
It didn't matter. It didn't matter what he fixed. It didn't matter how he tried to follow the rules. He'd failed. Failed in his Father's court. Failed in the Spire. Failed to gather coin. Failed in doing the simplest things Maze had asked of him.
And she left.
She won't come back because she can't stand to be around you anymore. You took everything from her. Traded for what? Nothing.
He needed to go back to the Lania's Den. Lethe allowed his thoughts to go quiet when nothing else worked.
This is what you deserve. You were meant to be discarded. To burn. You poison everything.
He was alone in the dome with his memories and voices. The winds calmed and Lucifer lay on the floor, unable to escape the torment if he tried. His limbs refused his commands, and he was too wracked with pain to do more than breathe. Every breath that expanded his ribs hurt, as if his bones cracked and broke with each inhale. His heartbeat, thudding wildly in his chest like a hammer, reverberated through his entire body, and the voices and images relentlessly assaulted his mind. His failures, the torments of the Spire, and the fall paraded before him on an endless repeat, merging together into a riotous nonsensical mass in his mind.
He burned. Flames melting away his body as Maze's voice told him: You're wrong, Lucifer. I don't want to fix it.
She was done with him. It was what he deserved.
He couldn't breathe. Gold flecks in the darkness. Golden eyes and laughter. You called her your handler. How could you do that?
It wouldn't stop. His skin rippled as red and pale chased each other and he tried to hold on. She wasn't coming back. Why would she? After everything he'd done and said it was no wonder she couldn't stand to sleep in the same dome.
You're wrong, Lucifer. I don't want to fix it.
The pain eased enough that he could move again. What right did he have to stay? He'd taken her freedom and her dignity. He couldn't give those back, but he could give her dome back. He could be like the other thralls at Lania's Den, take the drug until he lost himself completely.
He put on his chiton and pinned it at the shoulder, cinched a piece of scrap leather around it and put on his sandals. He stopped just inside the door. Her talisman pouch. He couldn't leave with it hidden away behind the provisions.
Why didn't you give it back long ago?
"She didn't want to talk about it!" he shouted at the voice.
You kept trying though, didn't you? Kept hurting her.
Why don't you ever listen?
The small jar was hidden within his basket, he pulled it out and wiped the grime of ash off the top of it. He knelt on the bedroll. It seemed so long ago that Maze had sat beside the fire in the grand dome that she deserved and spread the contents of her pouch to tell him the stories that were inside. She'd told him of her loyal warg companion. She'd looked at the fang with such reverence…
He rolled his shoulders and his wings unfurled with a soft rustle. If he moved them gently enough, they wouldn't shed ash. He bent his left wing forward and searched through the small, downy feathers. He chose carefully. His wings needed to be cleaned and groomed, but he found one that still gleamed white with divinity. It pulled free with far less effort than the primary. He banished his wings and wiped the drop of blood from the shaft.
He didn't touch the contents of the pouch when he opened it. He didn't have the right to disturb her prizes. The feather drifted softly inside to take its place among her treasured items. The coin jars tempted him. How much more lethe could he buy with that? But no. He'd earned that coin for Maze. What was left was less than he'd had, but it still might help her. It wouldn't help him. The Den would consume it as surely as it had the first jar. He placed the talisman pouch with the jars in front of his basket. Maze would see it.
He wouldn't be returning.
Perhaps someday she could think of him as fondly as she did the warg.
You are an idiot to think she'll care after everything you've done.
He walked the lanes without full awareness, one thought on his mind, focused on the place he needed to go. He wanted to forget everything. Forget he'd ever existed. He wanted to silence the voices that assailed him in the quiet of the dome. Sink into oblivion instead of fire when he slept. Vaguely he remembered being stopped by the other Lilim, the slender ones. Fraq and the others tried to distract him. To turn him away from where he wanted to go.
Someone is doing bad things to you. I've already lost one friend to lethe, I don't want to lose another.
He pushed Fraq away and stumbled, and when he got back on his feet, there was no one around. Had she been there at all?
Had he really seen them? On more than one occasion he thought he saw Fraq out of the corner of his eye, but everything felt confused and out of focus. Maybe he hadn't seen her at all.
At the door of the Den, Lania greeted him and led him inside. "You're a pathetic sight. Do you have coin?"
Lucifer shook his head, the movement sending spikes through his head again. He stumbled, and she held him upright.
"I suppose I'll have to give you a little or you'll be worth nothing." She drew him close to the hearth and made him sit on the cushions with the thralls. A couple of the more aware ones greeted him. Lania returned. The promise of getting lost in a drugged haze came with her and he licked at the powder on her finger. It felt good. It always felt good, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to forget. To lose himself completely he needed more.
His suffering eased enough that he stopped trembling and the pain receded. Lania gave him food and drink and ensured that he consumed them.
"I like you, Lucifer, so I'll take care of you this one ashfall. Get a bath and then I'll send you something easy to earn your keep."
The coupling was pleasant, took place in the main room, and only required that he lay pliant for the patrons. After, Lania settled him by the hearth and gave him enough lethe that he floated away, the voices gloriously silent.
Time felt disconnected as he lay with the thralls. That was all he was now, wasn't it?
When Lania crouched by his side, he didn't bother making the effort of looking at her. "This isn't what I wanted for you," she whispered. "She's coming back. I'll turn away, no one will stop you if you leave. Lucifer." She placed a hand on his arm. "Do you hear me?"
He didn't answer. She stood, and walked away.
She. Lania meant the shadow. Disgust and shame rippled through him. He'd let her…and he could still feel her worming her way into his mind. It was his own fault. He hadn't fought hard enough. He'd let her.
He stayed where he was. Lania returned. She kicked at his leg. "That's it then?" She crouched down again. He opened his mouth when she stroked his lips, gave him more of the precious lethe.
His gaze did turn to her then. Lucifer hadn't asked for another dose, but he was thankful for it. It cleared his head and eased the ache in his limbs. Lania looked down on him. "Time to go." Yes. He could already feel the presence of the one with power near-by.
Lucifer got up on his own and Lania held his arm to help steady him. He walked on his own to the private room, fully aware of what would be waiting inside. But there would also be the lethe-water and that drove him forward. He longed for the oblivion it offered.
He entered the room and closed the door behind him.
Though the attack was expected, the suddenness of it hit him, stealing his breath. He jolted against the intrusion on his mind, desperate for air. This time he offered no resistance. How many times had she come for him now? Memories bound him, wrapped him tight. He let it. The less he fought, the sooner it would be over with. His limbs felt heavy, too lethargic to even gasp in air when she eased the pressure.
Drink.
The flask was there, and he reached for it. He didn't need to be told to drink it all. The lethe felt cool and sweet on his tongue, comforting as it spread through his body.
He saw things that he thought were there, but couldn't be. A flash of light, his sister who had fought at his side, who he hadn't seen since their defeat. He'd seen none of them after being dragged away to await His judgement.
It was worth it to forget the true nature of his changed appearance, to forget the procession through the Silver City. Forget the taunts and insults his siblings had called out as they reviled and disowned him. Forget the look on his mother's face just before she turned away from him. Forget the torment of burning in the fiery lake. To forget the confinement and the torture of his wings.
He deserved to burn. Maze shouldn't have pulled him out of the fire. Or maybe she never did, and he burned and burned and burned.
Awareness returned as something cool touched his cheek. What was soothing at first turned to agony, the pressure on his skin ached, burned, froze all at once and he tried to pull away.
"Shh. I'll get you out. Shit. How much did she give you?"
"Lan—Lania—"
"Yes. It's me. Hold still. I'm getting you out of these." She released the straps he hadn't realised he'd been bound in and he drew his arms and legs in, curling in on himself. Shivering. It was so cold. Something covered his body. His skin felt like tiny knives stabbing already without this itchy, heavy thing. He pushed it off.
"Let's get you to the hearth and hope you can sleep this off."
All he knew was that when she touched him it hurt. Everything ached. And he was still spinning, still falling. "Stop. Make it stop."
"I can't," Lania answered. "Sleep. And then we'll assess how bad off you are." Hands grabbed, lifted. Lucifer twisted, trying to resist, but there was no coordination to it. A cushion appeared below him, and the warmth of the hearth soothed. Liquid was held to his mouth. It wasn't lethe, and he let it spill. He didn't even try to swallow it down to ease his thirst.
They left him alone after that. To sleep. To be lost. He was already lost.
But there was something…something he needed. To find? It took several tries, but he made it to his feet. Somewhere he needed to go?
The door. There. It was cold. He shivered and couldn't stop. His mind spun and he couldn't keep his balance. He didn't know where he was going. Or why. Ash fell all around him, swirling in the air, carried on the wind. It fell on his bare skin. The stones under his feet cut and stung. His chest ached and it was hard to breathe.
Why was he alone? Lucifer stumbled and fell, rolled onto his back and stared at the above, the great swirling ever present ash cloud. Never stars. Never anything. He blinked at the ash drifting down into his eyes. Everything ached, everything felt too sensitive. When had he left the Den? He didn't remember. He remembered…being held down. And then…nothing. Nothing was where he wanted to go back to, because there was nowhere else left to go —
The wind became strong, and he couldn't see, and he couldn't breathe… Instinct had him finding a place out of the wind, or at least with less wind. He needed shelter. His wings. He released his wings and they wrapped around him—
Someone crouched near him, a hand brushed across his face. Lucifer hoped it would offer more of the forgetting powder, but there was nothing. He felt something grasp his wrists and ankles, lifting, pulling, dragging—
And then all was dark.
